Unsung and Lost
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: Torchwood Three receives a reminder of the past and Jack receives a reminder for the future. One, at that, that isn't necessarily welcome.


**Author's Notes: Again, written by a prompt that went with a request for angst. I'm always happy to add a little angst into anything, so... I hope you enjoy it!**

The day when the news came had been pretty uneventful up to that point. Sure, it was ten in the morning and everyone was already in, but that didn't count for much when the entire team seemed to be doing anything but what they were supposed to. Jack wasn't feeling up to scolding them for it; not when they didn't have anything pressing on their hands.

He'd got the document first thing in the morning – UNIT's evaluation on everything that was left from Canary Wharf. They'd taken long enough to sort through everything they'd managed to salvage from the mess the Cybermen and the Daleks had left behind and had sent to Torchwood Two and Three and the Torchwood House whatever of it that could still be used.

Jack was currently skimming over the seemingly endless list of names. All of the employees of Torchwood One were listed in one of three categories: _living_ , _deceased_ and _missing, presumed dead._ Next to the names there was a list of the person in question's possessions and everything else that could be said about them, so it was at least a bit interesting, if a bit morbid. Ianto was the one who had to sort through all the rubbish UNIT had served in front of their front door and Jack didn't like dwelling on the fact that most of those things belonged to people who were long dead.

Thinking of Ianto, Jack smiled. He'd just got to his department and things looked just a bit brighter here.

 _ **RESEARCH**_

 _Jenkins, Trevor – Head of Research, living. Current location: London. Current occupation: Librarian. Personal possessions sent to current address. Equipment has been sent to Torchwood House._

It was a good start. The research department hadn't suffered as many losses as the front lines and a few of the twenty-seven survivors were part of that exact group. Jack's eyes slid over the names and all of the new lives that had been formed after the disaster and was just starting to dislike this list just a bit less when his eyes landed on the most familiar name of the list.

Jones, Ianto – Junior Team, missing, presumed dead. No personal possessions have been found. Equipment has been sent to Torchwood Three.

They'd made a mistake. How it had happened was completely beyond Jack, given that UNIT knew everything about Torchwood Three and had researched his team in depth enough times, but for some reason he couldn't take his eyes away from the words. Missing, presumed dead. No, he's not, he wanted to say. He's right here. He's fine, alive as anything. He's perfectly fine. But his lips were dry and his whole body was frozen and even though his reaction was terribly inadequate and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.

"Jack, look at what I found!" Ianto's voice pierced through the fog in Jack's mind and the Captain looked up to face him just as the younger man dragged a large box through the door of his office. It had _I.J._ scrawled on top of it and a note attached to the side. Jack got up and snatched the note away to take a look at what was written there.

 _Jack,_

 _I'm sorry about the list. God knows what our archivists were thinking, although Sasha did say that they couldn't find any trace of him anywhere at the time. Everything that was found in Ianto's office is in here. Say hi to the team from me!"_

 _M. Jones_

It was so simple; as if it was just a silly little mistake someone had made. And it was – Jack couldn't blame anyone for the fact that Ianto had run off to save Lisa and that there were no witnesses of it. He knew that he himself had had an easy access to Ianto's file when they'd met because Torchwood One's system defences had been practically useless at the time.

"Jack, are you okay?" Ianto asked carefully. He'd placed the box on the floor and was sorting through the things in it, most of which were already placed on Jack's desk. The Captain took them in – an alien scanner of some sort, probably one that had helped Ianto in his cataloguing efforts, several staplers, two notebooks and a bunch of seemingly useless objects with unknown origin. Someone – most likely Ianto – had taped a sticker with a question mark on each and every one of them and Jack found that oddly charming even in his current state. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Jack assured him hastily. "I'm fine, it's just that– UNIT has– There's, well–"

"Let me see," Ianto interrupted and pulled the list out of Jack's unresisting hands. His eyes slid down the long column of names and Jack saw him try to resist a wince at the apparent familiarity of some of them. He was still frowning in confusion, though, and Jack saw that the light only dawned when he realised what the problem was. "I see," he said softly. "Well, I'll give them that – it's kind of strange to hear that I'm dead."

"Don't even joke about this," Jack snapped and Ianto's eyes widened. He looked tentative, as if he didn't know what exactly he'd said to piss his lover off and that riled Jack up even further. "How can you even say that? Don't you see?"

"See what?" Ianto asked, bewildered. "It's a mistake, Jack. A reasonable one, you know – if you can't find a body and can't find the person later, you put them down as missing. And with the way things were at Canary Wharf, 'missing' pretty much meant 'dead'."

He didn't understand. Jack didn't need to listen to what else he had to say to realise that Ianto didn't even try to figure out why exactly this was a problem. He was joking about it, of all things. Really, Jack thought, what kind of person could laugh when they saw themselves listed as dead? He didn't ask Ianto that because he knew the answer already. It was a coping mechanism. Of course he'd laugh, because what was the alternative? He'd lose his mind if he couldn't look at this from a make-believe bright side he'd fabricated on his own, so he was doing just that. He was joking about it because he didn't know another way.

"One day, Ianto," Jack started anyway, wanting, needing to make him understand, "I'll have to write a list like that; a very, very short list and I'll have to be the one to write those words. I'll have to write those words next to your name, so don't you _dare_ talk about it like it's nothing. This is not a joke."

"Yes, it is," Ianto snapped. "Of course it is, Jack! I'm nobody. Ninety percent of the people I've ever known think I'm dead and I've done nothing to change that for the simple reason that I didn't want to. My entire life is a joke. It's the only way I can stand to look at it. Don't you understand? I have to talk about it like it's nothing, because otherwise I'll be forced to see it the way you do. Yes, I'm going to die. Yes, it probably won't be a long time from now. And what do you think I should do in the meantime? Sit here and wait for that moment to come?"

"No!" Jack's tone was even more scandalised than he'd expected it to be. "Of course not, Ianto, I just..." His voice died and Jack shook his head as he stood up, rounding the desk and nearing Ianto's side. "Never mind that now. Come here."

Ianto obliged with a smile that was all too bright for the conversation they were having and leant in for the kiss that Jack gave him readily. It was a distraction, he knew, and one that Ianto had probably planned by challenging him like he had, but he didn't care. Not right now. Not when the distraction was so sweet and everything that could possibly go wrong with the world seemed so far away.


End file.
